plague doctor

i ask my friends,
"how have you been keeping yourself
together?" i do not actually want
advice but i want to hear if/how
we are surviving. i look up designs
for a plague doctor uniform. 
needle in my teeth, i get to work. 
sew together old jackets. 
i stop sleeping. sleep is for a different time
with less fire & less windows.
i walk around outside in the uniform.
moon swimming like a jellyfish. 
on my phone more people are dying.
there are sleepless cities & rubble & ghosts. 
the long snout of the mask
was once filled with dried flowers
& perfumes. there is truth 
to bad medieval science. you cannot breathe
the dead air. if you do, the end will
take root in your bones & you will
be able to count your days
on one hand. i knock on doors.
i do not pay attention to the time. 
early bruised blue morning. 
some people are still pretending like
none of the terror will reach them.
i find them tending their lawns. hands & knees
worshipping the green. i try not to believe
that they are too far gone. but i know
they are. soon, they will be billboards
& i will drive underneath them. 
i breathe in the flowers. rose & lavender 
& a few fingers of dandelion root. the first person
who opens the door for me tells me,
"this is not my house." i hand them 
a needle & a thread & i say,
"i can show you how to make 
this body too." together we make
another robe & mask. we touch foreheads
beneath the lightning tree. they wander
off into the sprouting may corn field.
i go towards the sound of wind chimes.